


Arrows, Spiders, and a Ring.

by TheMirkyKing



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol consumtion, M/M, Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 03:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15899967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMirkyKing/pseuds/TheMirkyKing
Summary: Spiders are popping up every where in Mirkwood, and Thranduil should be pleased that someone has killed them, except he doesn't need the added worry of a rouge archer.Bard knew the ring he found in a downed tree should be returned to the Elven Kings halls.  It was just that he got distracted...





	Arrows, Spiders, and a Ring.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RainbowUnderpants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowUnderpants/gifts).



> A short story based of Homeiswheretheheartsare wonderful artwork for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 18.

 

“My Lord…” The Captain of the Patrol began, nervous bringing word of this to his haughty king. The elf hesitated, “It’s…It’s the spiders…” Thranduil tamped down his irritation and fixed him with a cool eye.

“Yes, what of them?” He sighed. They had been growing bolder every year. His patrols were having trouble keeping up with their numbers, destroying nest when they were found. What else could they be doing to cause his guards to be coming to him?

A headache was forming, he could feel it. His damaged face (hidden by elven glamour) ached, a clear sign of an impeding headache. He gave his guard a sharp glance. “Well?” He demanded. The poor elf jumped at this. Thranduil’s felt annoyed and a bit guilty, it wasn’t this poor elf’s fault, still he couldn’t help barking at him. He had plenty on his plate already, spiders just one more issue needing his attention.

“Come,” He said more gently, “What is it?”

The guard relaxed a bit at the softer tone, but he was still tense. “We found spiders near the Forest River.” Thranduil flinched. So close! That would not do, not at all.

“Then we must destroy them.” Thranduil started.

“That’s just it my Lord!” The elf exclaimed. “They have been!” Thranduil smiled in relief. If that was the case, why was he so worried? The patrols had done their job!

“Excellent!” Thranduil praised, rising from the throne, ready to retreat to his private chambers. “You and your company may go to the cellar master and enjoy…”

“It wasn’t my company that destroyed them My Lord.” He interrupted.

“What?” Thranduil paused, perplexed by this. “What do you mean? Then who’s company did?”

“That’s just it, it was no elf who killed them.”

Thranduil frowned. If it wasn’t one of his patrols killing the spiders, then who else would be bold enough to do such a thing?

He asked the patrol to show him personally where they found it. Spiders slain with arrows, man-made and one black Dwarven-made one. An old one, like the ones Dale commissioned from Erebor.

It didn’t take long to reach the site. Thranduil dismounted and approached the first impaled spider. Not a full grown one, really just an baby, but still as large as a dog. And by the state of decay, killed awhile ago. Thranduil touched the shaft protruding from one of the faceted eyes. Man-made, crude by elven standards, yet it was obviously shot from a long bow. He examined the other arrows. Dwarven-made and the black one, it tickled his memory…it almost looked like a smaller version of the wind lance that Girion of Dale had used to try and kill the worm Smaug with.

“Someone has been trespassing in my woods. Slaying my, the spiders. I guess I can’t take too much offence to that.” He thought. Except he was, as someone was trespassing in Mirkwood.

 

***

  
Hours later Thranduil pushed back from his desk, sighing heavily. He leaned back, glancing at the decanter of rich Dorwinion wine, just one glass, he thought. To take away the ache in his limbs, his body, in his mind. He was so very tired, everyday there were problems, but on days like this one, it made him question his choices. The growing darkness in the forest. Legolas’s ever increasing need to disobey and test Thranduil’s limits (and his patience). Then, in a deep dark part of his mind, it made him doubt at how well he was leading his people. Now, added to all of that, was the mystery of who had entered Mirkwood to kill the spiders that seemed to be springing up everywhere.

Not that he minded that, after all, his guards were hard pressed in keeping their lands clear. No, he just didn’t like the idea of some rouge archer roaming around Mirkwood. Even before it had changed, Mirkwood had been a wild and dangerous forest. What he didn’t need was the headache of having this man (who else would it be?) coming to harm in his forest. That would require speaking with the Master of Lake-town, a less than enjoyable prospect.

Thranduil disliked the human the moment he laid eyes on him. Unlike other Masters of Lake Town, this man saw himself as a King, not an elected official that he was. So when he came to renegotiate the treaties and trade between Mirkwood and Lake-town, they were brief and limited. Thranduil had been rather short and cold with the loathsome man, only allowing a single bargeman to ferry back and forth between their realms.

Realms! Thranduil snorted in derision. He refused to think of Laketown as a kingdom, it was a sad reminder of what had been. He knew it was unreasonable, but he really did not want to encourage the people of Lake-town to think they had free reign in coming to his halls or lands. Just as the Silvan elves kept to the forest and rarely traveled outside Mirkwood. Though once they had done so, going to and from Dale and Erebor…Before the folly and greed of the Dwarves, and the destruction wrought by the dragon Smaug.

Thranduil stood up and poured a glass of wine. Thinking about the past always make him agitated. He took a big sip and rolled his head, seeking to ease the tension there. Did he not have enough problems? No need to dwell on past mistakes and old wounds. In less then two weeks the Festival of Starlight would be celebrated. An event all Silvan elves cherished, one he enjoyed as well. While it was held every year, it still required detailed plans and preparation. Elves would be gathering in the great clearing, feasting and making merry, which meant the spiders needed to be driven further back AND they needed to make sure there was no-one who shouldn’t be in the forest!

As annoyed as he was with the rouge archer, he was also a bit impressed too. Thranduil pondered about it. The arrows were both human and Dwarven make, so he couldn’t discount that it was a group of archers. Were they coming on their own or could they be coming with the bargeman? Thranduil frowned. He did not like that! A complete disregard of the agreement and it showed a lack of control by the Master. Not that it surprised him, who could respect that man?

Thranduil sighed. He would need to speak with Nestrin, the cellar master. Next time the bargeman came, he would have the human brought to him and questioned. He was sure he would get the bottom of this! Without thinking, he poured another glass of wine. The mystery of who was killing the spiders would have to wait. One issue at a time. His guards were doing their best. Tauriel, Captain of the Guards, was growing impatient, he felt it.

But he wasn’t willing to allow her to go to the ruins of Dol Guldur. No, there was something darker than Ungoliant’s spawn there. He was not going to rush his people into a battle that might prove more then they could handle. Too well he knew what could befall those who did so. Thoughts of his father had him gulping down his wine, pouring more. Memories of Oropher rushing into battle, ignoring Gil-Galad’s commands, still haunted him. Thranduil grimaced, thoughts of Oropher led to thoughts of her….

“NO!” Thranduil gritted out. He would not think about her. Some paths he could not go down, would not go down. It was still too painful, even after all these centuries. Thranduil shook himself, drained the cup, refilled it and went back to his desk (decanter now almost empty). There were more pleasant tasks at hand, better to focus on the Festival.

He reviewed the items that would be needed. Mostly wine and a few goods that Lake-town still excelled at making and which the Silvan elves enjoyed. This year’s celebration would be more relaxed. The great glen was just what was called for! A way to claim their lands again. And the hunt…too long had they fallen away from that tradition. Thranduil couldn’t stop the feeling that life in Mirkwood was in for darker times and that this might be the last time any would find peace.

In no time at all he was done with his list and royal notices, letters, and plans (and all of the decanter). He slipped all of the required summons for Lake-town onto Galion’s work plie. No doubt this would be greeted by his advisor with a sour look. Galion didn’t mind dealing with humans, though he disliked the Master and his toady, Alfrid, just as much as Thranduil did, only Galion was better at hiding it. Thranduil snickered, better Galion then himself. He reached for more wine and frowned. No more?! How was that possible? He grunted and rose to his feet, only swaying slightly. Well, he needed to speak with Nestrin anyways, why he would be able to kill two birds with… a black arrow! Thranduil chuckled at that, gathering the arrow and the decanter and made his way down to cellars.

“Nestrin!” Thranduil called out as he entered the lower caverns. “Where is my Cellar Master?” Thranduil smiled, swaying slightly as he peered at the rows of bottles before him. He swung the empty decanter and tapped the black arrow against his leg as he hummed a tune. He was feeling…rather good for once, his headache was long gone. Now if that damned cellar master would just answer him! He opened his mouth to yell out again when a dark head popped around the corner of the next row of wine, eyes wide. Thranduil grinned. “There you are!” He said happily (shouted actually)

The elf blinked in disbelief and gave a small nod. Thranduil beamed and beckoned the Cellar Master with the arrow. “Come, come Nestrin, no need to hide there. I am in need of more wine!” Thranduil held out the empty decanter, upside down and pointed at it with the arrow.

The dark haired elf’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hair line, mouth falling open. An undignified giggle escaped Thranduil. Nestrin looked so funny, just a head hanging there... Another giggle and Nestrin’s eyes bulged out in shock.

Nestrin retreated behind the racks of wine and Thranduil could make out a hushed words being exchanged with a another elf. Thranduil was about to investigate when Nestrin stepped out fully, coming towards Thranduil slowly. Thranduil smirked at him, what was wrong with him? He was acting like he was facing one of the spiders or something. A fair haired head peered around the corner, eyes round like saucers.

“Ah!! Your apprentice…” Thranduil called out and struggled to place the young ellon’s name. Nestrin cleared his throat and supplied softly, “Fenian, my Lord.” “Yes! That him! Fenian!” Thranduil boomed, causing the younger elf to flinch, and glance at his Master with worry. Thranduil grinned at him and asked, “Not sampling from the barrels are you?” Fenian’s eyes widened as Thranduil snickered, “That would be naughty of you!”

Both elves exchanged horrified looks. Nestrin managed to take the decanter from Thranduil and retreated a safe distance, sniffing discreetly at it, detecting the heavy scent of Dorwinion.

“As you can see,” Thranduil addressed Nestrin, “I am in need of some more wine and some information.”

Nestrin bowed his head, “Of course Lord Thranduil, let me see if I can not find you a suitable vintage.” He jerked his head at Fenian, who shook his head, not wanting to get involved. Their King was temperamental when he was sober…and now…who knew? The Cellar Master gave him a furious look and mouthed “Get over here!” Reluctantly he stepped forth.

“My Lord, if you would care to take your ease while I find you the perfect wine.” Thranduil swayed and both elves reached out to steady him. “My Lord!” He exclaimed, “Please honor us with sitting here…” They guided their king to a nearby table. Thranduil plopped down, slamming the arrow before him, causing both elves to jump.

“Very kind of you!” Thranduil laughed and began to tap the arrow against the wood of the table, and he began to sing softly. “The wine?” Thranduil asked before resuming his song. The elves withdrew quickly.

“He’s drunk!” Fenian said in hushed amazement once they were in the stacks.

Nestrin rolled his eyes at his apprentice. “Very astute of you.” He shoved the decanter at him. “He drank a full decanter of Dorwinion! If it was any other elf, they would be passed out cold!”

“What are we going to do?”

“Well, I am going to get him more wine, and you are going to run and get Galion.” Nestrin was already searching for a light and fruity wine, something that wouldn’t clash with the rich red and cause his King a royal headache in the morning.

“Is that wise?” Fenian frowned, chewing his lip in worry, “He is already drunk!”

Nestrin resisted the urge to smack him upside the head. “Are you going to be the one to deny our King his request?” Fenian paled at the suggestion and shook his head no. Nestrin grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him towards the stairs and gave a gently shove, “So get moving, and let me find our King some more wine!”

While he searched for the wine he had in mind, Nestrin wasn’t fully convinced that Thranduil was as drunk as he was making out. His comment about wanting information…Nestrin recognized the arrow Thranduil carried. But why Bard Bowman’s arrow was in Thranduil possession was beyond him, though it would appear that Thranduil was wanting to know that answer too. Nestrin hoped that Fenian would bring Galion as quickly as possible, he had a sinking feeling and it had nothing to do with how “drunk” Thranduil was.

He took longer then needed, pouring the sparkling wine into a new decanter, and grabbing glasses. He figured he would need a glass of wine, even if it was to delay any responses required. Not that he was scared of his King, it was more that their interactions for the most part were limited to discussions about wine and how many barrels the kingdom required. That Thranduil wanted to question him about Bard had the elf on edge. It wasn’t like Thranduil had forbidden anyone from talking to the bargeman, that would have been impossible, yet Nestrin was pretty sure he would frown upon the fact that Bard was a frequent guest of Nestrin’s and Galion when he delivered the goods from Lake-town.

It had happened gradually, at first just a brief greeting while the elves off loaded the goods and sent the empties flow down to the collection basin. Bard was not a gregarious man by nature, nor were elves, so their initial conversations were stilted. After a few months and it was obvious he would be their regular bargeman, Nestrin took it upon himself to be more friendly. It’s hadn’t escaped his notice that Bard was an archer, the long bow and the quiver of arrows always propped up against the ruder. It was a natural opening and Nestrin took it, finding Bard to be a man of few words but well spoken and kind, despite his rather grim look. Their conversations soon took on a more personal nature, often shared over a glass of wine. Fenian liked Bard immediately and after a chance meeting with Galion, the four of them often made a merry party when delivery day came.

Nestrin returned to find Thranduil busy inspecting a barrel. He nodded at the rows of wine and other sprites, “We really have some impressive vintages!”

“Ummm…Yes My Lord…”Nestrin agreed. “I think you will enjoy this…I wanted to bring it to your attention, as I thought it might be something for the Festival.” He poured the effervescent wine and handed the glass to Thranduil, who held it up to the lantern light, noticing the tiny bubbles that ran up the tall glass. He sniffed it, took a sip, at which a delighted smile broke out.

“Marvelous!” Thranduil exclaimed. “I quite agree with you, this will be a perfect way to celebrate! Sparkles on the tongue while we bask in the sparkling stars!” Thranduil motioned for Nestrin to join him. Nestrin was more then happy to do so, anything to cover his surprise at Thranduil lyrical musings.

Maybe he was wrong, it could be possible his King was truly drunk. Thranduil took another sip, eying Nestrin shrewdly before speaking. “Does this black arrow seem familiar to you?” Nestrin almost chocked on his wine, he was about ready to admit that he recognized it. He was pretty certain it was Bard’s. He was about to speak when Fenian returned with a rumpled and rather grumpy Galion in tow.

Thranduil’s piercing gaze turned to Galion. “This arrow, along with others were found today near the Forest River, all of them in the carcasses of young spiders.”

“That is unfortunate my Lord, those creatures are becoming a nuisance.” Galion replied calmly.

Thranduil snorted, “Yes, quite a nuisance…as is a rouge archer roaming Mirkwood!” Galion caught Nestrin’s eye and gave the barest shake of his head. “As I was just asking Nestrin, does this arrow remind you of anything?” Galion peered closer at the arrow Thranduil held.

“Why it looks like a miniature version of a wind lance.”

“Just what I thought as well!” Thranduil proclaimed, thumping his hand on the table, causing poor Fenian to jump. Nestrin poured more sparkling wine. “The question is who would have such an arrow…the last wind lance was shot over 60 years ago by Girion.” Thranduil’s eyes sharped as he looked Nestrin right in the eye. “The barge man…” Nestrin felt like a fly in a web. “You are on friendly terms with him are you not?” Nestrin gave a small nod, he couldn’t deny it. “Could he be the one who did the deed?”

“I doubt it my Lord.” Galion laughed, Nestrin gave him a questioning look. “He is a simple man, not the type to venture beyond his barge.” Nestrin was glad Fenian was behind Thranduil, as his mouth dropped open in shock.

Thranduil frowned up at his advisor. “Then how did it wind up here? It has to the a man! After all, Girion was a man of Dale, does not his descendants still dwell in Lake-town?” Nestrin wasn’t sure why Galion was withholding the truth about the arrows, but he knew there had to be a reason.

“Perhaps it was Dwarves my Lord?” Galion suggested.

“Why would Dwarves come to Mirkwood?” Thranduil wrinkled his nose.

“Who can say with Dwarves my Lord.” Galion shrugged and hesitated briefly before adding, “was it not rumored that a group of dwarves were seen traveling from the Blue Mountains just a few months ago? And again from the Iron Hills?”

Thranduil drummed his fingers on the table in irritation, muttering “Dwarves…cause nothing but trouble.” He frowned and spoke up, “If it were Dwarves, and I am not sure it is, why would they not simply follow the Path and announce themselves, instead of sulking around…” Galion’s incredulous look had Thranduil trailing off. There was no love lost between elves and dwarves, even more so for Thranduil. “And the black arrows?” Thranduil pressed.

Galion cleared his throat, “If I remember correctly, many Erebor dwarves settled in the Blue Mountains, and they did cast wind lances and black arrows, I wouldn’t put it past them to have keep many of them.”

Thranduil grunted in agreement there. Galion went on. “And most likely they thought they could shorten their trip by cutting across the old trail…and found themselves retreating as quickly as their bowlegs could carry them!”

Fenian laughed at this, though there was no laughter from the others, and he bit is lip. “I will speak to Captain Tauriel and make sure we get more northern patrols, both for the spiders and to be on the look out for travelers, though I think we needn’t worry about that…a brush with spiders, even juveniles is enough to cure trespassers.”

“True.” He sighed deeply and stood up. “Well…either way, the mystery of who, or whom, did the deed will not be solved tonight.” Galion inclined his head agreement. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed at his advisor. “Seeing as you are already up, come with me and gather the orders to take to Lake-town.”  
“Of course my Lord.” Galion’s voice held only a slight hint of weariness. “If you will allow me a moment with Nestrin…” Galion lowered his voice, leaning closer to Thranduil, “I have been meaning to pay him a call..” He shot Nestrin an annoyed look, “he owes me a bit of coin from our last round of games…” A bark of laughter erupted from Thranduil.

“Yes, yes…by all means!” Still laughing he nodded to Nestrin and then Fenian, both who bowed as Thranduil made his way to stairs.

“Now you,” Galion growled, “I believe the amount was….” The reverberating boom of the cellar door had him sinking down on the bench. Nestrin quickly handed him a glass, which Galion downed before giving him a grateful smile. Fenian stood staring at Galion in horror.

“You…you…you lied!” Fenian voice was astonished. “To our KING!” Galion’s lips soured at the him.

“No, I provided him with…selective information.” Galion drolly answered.

“But why?”

Nestrin was wondering the same thing. Galion sighed and rubbed his face. “I think it is safe to say we all like Bard, yes?” Galion asked, sipping more wine while Nestrin and Fenian nodded. “That his friendship would be missed if he was to lose his position as bargeman.”

“Why would he lose his job?” Fenian demanded, “So he killed some nasty spiders, who cares!”

Galion shook his head at the young elf. Even Nestrin gave a huff at him.

“Because he is breaking the rules of the contract between Lake-town and Mirkwood.” Galion replied. Fenian scowled at this muttering about that being stupid.

“Yes it is stupid, as it could cost him his livelihood!” Galion snapped.

“Thranduil would never do that!” Fenian protested, “He wouldn’t get rid of Bard for that reason!”

“Agreed,” Galion’s voice was cool and he stared hard at the ellon. “KING Thranduil would do no such thing but I have little doubt that the Master of Lake-town wouldn’t. I am sure he would be more then happy to replace Bard with another.”

A significate look was shared by all of them. Though Bard never said so, in their various chats while enjoying a glass or two, it was what he omitted spoke volumes. That the Master and Alfrid disliked him was clear. Galion could understand why the Master would, though he didn’t think it very smart of the man. Bard was a direct descendant of Girion, thus of noble birth and rank, even if current circumstances were poor, he had more right to rule then the Master. Reason enough for the man to hate Bard.

“But that would only be if the Master found out!” Fenian said. “And who would tell him.”

“King Thranduil of course.” Galion answered. “He would be right to do so. It was made quite clear that no one was to enter the forest proper without prior consent. The fact that Bard did so would require Thranduil to address this with the Master and…”

“Bard would get the shaft!” Nestrin finished.

“Indeed.” Galion nodded. “So yes, I withheld that information from him, do you think I was wrong to do so?” Galion asked them. Both shook their heads.

Nestrin chewed his lip in thought, “What would posses Bard to go into the woods to kill spiders?” He finally asked.

Galion rolled his eyes at his friend. “Really? You can not guess why a poor father of three children would venture into Mirkwood?” He raised a dark brow at the perplexed elf till he saw comprehension dawn.

“Do you really think it is as simple as that?” Nestrin exclaimed.

“What…what is it?” Fenian pleaded “What are you talking about?” They shared exasperated looks but ignored him.

“Does Bard strike you as the type of man who would risk life and wages for a chance to kill spiders?” Galion posed.

“No…no, you have to be right. He is cautious…” Nestrin suddenly chuckled. “In fact he is a lot like Thranduil.”

Galion grinned, “Yes, I have often thought that too!” Galion stood and stretched. “It is the only possible scenario that makes sense, but until I can be certain that it is truly the case, I think we should keep to the Dwarven theory, agreed?”

“Agreed!” Nestrin and Fenian chorused with the younger adding, “I still think we should have told him…”

“I think you need to keep your mouth shut and obey me!” Galion snarled. Fenian ducked his head at the reprimand. Galion softened, “Leave it, Fenian, I will take care of this mess.”

“What are you going to do?” Nestrin asked as they made their way out of the cellars.

“Why attend to our King as he instructed.” Galion held out his hand. “Now pay up, can’t show up with out my winnings you know!”

Nestrin’s mouth twisted in disgust as he fished out some coins. “I will be getting these back, right?”

Galion grinned as he pocketed them. “Think of it as protection money!”

“Hmmpt…” Nestrin huffed, “Who is going to protect us if Thranduil finds out we lied to him?”

“Like I said, leave that to me my good Cellar Master!” Galion proclaimed with a broad smile and bowed as he took his leave.

The smile was gone as soon as he headed towards Thranduil’s private chambers. He was pretty sure Thranduil already knew they had lied. Why hadn’t he just told Thranduil the truth? Because he knew his king better then anyone, he knew his strengths and weakness, just as he had with Oropher. He had kept Bard out as he didn’t want Thranduil to get the wrong impression of him. Thranduil was not a cruel or petty king but once he felt slighted, he could hold a grudge. He didn’t want Thranduil taking a dislike to Bard before he knew all the facts. And a strange part of him often thought that if the two should ever meet, they would like each other. Galion chuckled at his musings as he knocked on the door and entered as Thranduil called out.

Galion smiled as Thranduil turned to him, holding out the letters for Lake-town. The smile faltered when he held out in the other, the black arrow balanced on his palm, offering it to him.

“Bard.” Thranduil said as Galion took it from him. “The barge man’s name that is.” Galion swallowed and inclined his head. Thranduil’s lips quirked, “I couldn’t remember his name…and you did not provided it, it came to me once I had a moment to think. I believe he is the descendant of none other then Giridon…” All Galion did was nod.

Thranduil inhaled deeply before moving towards chairs set before the fire. He sat down and motioned for Galion to do the same. “My Lord…” Galion began and was stopped by Thranduil’s hand held up to silence him.

“He would be our spider killer?”

Galion took a breath, “Yes.” There was no reason now to keep up the pretense. Thranduil watched his advisor, frowning at him. “How did you…”

“Dwarves Galion? Did you really think I would believe that?” Thranduil actually chuckled and Galion felt a bit surprised and hearted by this.

“I thought it was rather good shot,” Galion smirked, “There have been Dwarves seen traveling…”

Thranduil waved his hand dismissively, “Yes, yes, so I have heard too…we both know none would come here.”

“Stranger things have happened my Lord.”

“Yes, such as bargemen who are decedent’s of kings, plying wine barrels up and down our river and entering my forest without leave, and my advisor lying to me about it.” Galion flinched and looked away. “I understand you are friends with him, but do you think so little of me that you could not tell me?”

“NO!” Galion shock was instant. “No, my Lord…that wasn’t the reason…”

“Come Galion…am I not only your king, am I not your friend too?”

“Of course you are…Thranduil.” It felt strange to address his king this way but what he had said was true, they had know each other well before Thranduil became king.

“So why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to form…opinions…about him before I could find out why Bard did it!” Galion said in a rush.

“Opinions? I believe that is round about way of saying that I am judgmental and arrogant?” Thranduil snorted.

“Well…you have been known to have strong views, from time to time.”

Thranduil laughed and clapped Galion on the arm. “I guess I should hold off on disliking this Bard, until you have a chance to talk to him…get his side of the story?”

“If it wouldn’t be a bother for you my Lord?”

Thranduil shook his head, still chuckling at his bold advisor. “None! And now my deceitful friend, away with you…Lake-town is awaiting your arrival!”

 

Bard saw Sigrid and Bane off and settled Tilda down with a book in front of the fire and he finally had a moment to sit at the dinning table. His hand automatically reached into the pocket of his tunic and drew out the ring. He glanced at Tilda, making sure she was concentrating on her letters and not on him. He toyed with it and fretted about it…he should have taken it directly to Nestrin or more likely Galion, he should have done a lot things differently that day…

 

***

  
Bard cast off from the lower caverns, waving goodbye to Nestrin and Fenian. He was feeling rather fine, what with a few glasses of wine and some stew in him. He glanced at the sky, the storm clouds were gone, luckily the storm hit just as he docked. Aside from getting a bit wet as they hurried to unload and see the empties sent down the way, he had avoided the worst of the storm.

Except the trip home wasn’t smooth sailing. Numerous trees littered the river, bumping and hindering his barge as he made his way home. He was hard pressed sailing the barge and avoid some of the bigger snags in the water. It was while trying to avoid one that caused him to sail too close to another downed tree and become entangled with it. With a weary sigh, he pushed and shoved to get clear of it when a glint of gold caught his eye. He peered at the weathered bark and there in it’s skin a ring was lodged, beneath it he could just make out what looked to be part of elvish writing, like someone had carved a name long ago. He worked at the bark and the ring fell into his hand.

He nearly fell into the water as his barge came up against the shore. He swore softly, peering over the side, worried he would be stuck but the shore was wet and he would be able to shove off easily. He took a moment to study the ring. It was rather pretty, gold with intricate vine pattern, and “gasp”, a blue stone! Bard knew he would have to take it back to the cavern, he couldn’t keep it, people would think he stole it. Yes, he would just have to go back…when his attention was caught by movement in the forest. Bard crouched down. Without thinking, slipped the ring into his pocket, and reached for his bow and quiver of arrows.

He knew Mirkwood was dangerous…he heard about the spiders, everyone did. He peered into the woods, ready to send an arrow flying. The woods stirred and this time he saw that it was a deer, a buck if he wasn’t mistaken. Now Bard was a good man, who respected the elves and understood the rules of agreement made between King Thranduil and the Master, but he was also a poor man and the prospect of fresh meat for his children…well it was worth breaking rules. His arrow was already flying and the buck dashed away.

He sent off after it, hardly gone a few feet, when he heard the squeal of the buck. Bard hurried. He must have wounded it! He didn’t want to let the animal suffer or get away. He burst into a clearing expecting to find his prey and instead found it being cocooned by a huge spider. Bard’s horror at the sight of the spider spinning the buck was replaced with terror as three smaller spiders sprang forward, chittering to each other and coming for him. Bard did the sensible thing and ran.

He was almost back to his boat when two more spiders dropped down on silken threads, barring his freedom. Bard didn’t hesitate, whipping out the first arrow and sent it flying, impaling the creature. He whirled around as he heard the others approaching and more arrows found their mark. Bard didn’t wait to see if the bigger spider was following, he reached the barge, shoved with all his might and jumped aboard. Once the barge was in the center of the swift moving river and cleared the overhanging branches of Mirkwood, did he sag in relief. His only thought was to get home and hug his children to him. He told himself he would never do such a stupid thing again!

 

***

  
That was almost a week ago, everyday since he kept expecting the city guards to come knocking and be dragged before the Master to be told his services were no longer needed. But when no one came he was beginning to feel like the whole incident had gone unnoticed. Except the elven ring as a reminder…

A knock at the door made both Tilda and himself jump. Neither moved. No one ever knocked on doors in Lake-town, everyone knew everyone and the only time someone did knock, it was for nothing good. Tilda looked at him with wide eyes as another knock rapped out. Bard shot a smile at her, trying to calm her and bolster his own worry. A third knock rang out followed with his name called out by a voice he had never expected to hear outside Mirkwood.

Bard yanked open the door to find Galion standing there. Bard’s astonishment was quickly replaced with dread, he was just surprised the Master hadn’t sent Alfrid with guards to haul him away. That Galion was here…would King Thranduil actually want to see him?

“Galion! I can explain everything!” Bard blurted out. Galion held up a hand to pause him.

“Please Bard,” Galion smiled at him. “I was sent by King Thranduil to deliver notices for goods to be delivered for our upcoming Festival of Starlight, and I thought I would pay a call on you!”

Relief flooded Bard. “Of course, please Galion, come in…” He motioned for the elf to enter. Tilda’s eyes practically jumped out of her head as Galion bowed to her.

“This lovely lady must be Tilda?” Galion asked and reached into the satchel he carried and pulled out a wrapped gift, holding it out to her. “A little something for you, I hope you will like it.”

Tilda hesitated, looking to Bard for permission to accept it. Bard grinned and nodded. She gave an excited squeak as she took it and opened it to find a soft elven doll. “Oooooh!” She gushed, “She is so beautiful, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Galion laughed and was shocked when the small girl threw her arms around him to give him a hard hug. Bard gently pulled her away.

“Umm… sweetie, elves don’t really like to be touched..” Bard said softly and Tilda gazed up at Galion in concern.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t know…” She whispered. Galion knelt and to Bard and Tilda’s surprise, embraced her.

“It’s all right little one…” He gave Bard an amused look. “It isn’t that we dislike hugging, it is just we tend to be more reserved around people we are not close to. But I feel like I already know you from all the tales your father has told us!” Tilda’s worried face broke out in a smile.

“What did he tell you?” Tilda asked. Bard cleared his throat and she let go of Galion, who stood up, flashing Bard a grateful smile. He reached into his satchel and again and brought out two more gifts.

“Could you see that your brother and sister get these?” Galion suggested to her. She eagerly nodded and took them and piped out that she was going to put them on their beds as a surprise. Bard and Galion chuckled as she skipped up the stairs to their rooms. Galion brought out one last package. “This... is for you.”

Bard was astonished as he took it, unwrapping to find his black arrow and the others he had shot. Bard swallowed hard and looked at Galion worry.

“Galion…” Bard started and then stopped shaking his head. So he had been discovered. Galion waited patiently while Bard struggled to control his emotions. “It’s…it’s not what you think.”

“I think…” Galion slowly started, “That you went in search of game and almost became a meal yourself!” Galion arched a brow at him. “Or am I wrong?”

Bard shaky laugh was all the confirmation Galion needed. “Yeah, that is pretty much it!” Bard breathed out. “So…are you here to tell me I have been shacked? I would have thought the Master or Alfrid would be eager for that task!” Galion snorted in agreement.

“Actually, I came to let you know that you should receive word on a unscheduled delivery coming up…just so you will be ready.” Galion grinned. “And to also make sure that your little foray into our forest was a one time occurrence?”

“Gods…I will never set foot anywhere other then the caverns again!” Bard proclaimed, “You have my word on that!”

“Excellent!” Galion clapped Bard on the shoulder, shaking him a little. “We are quite fond of you my friend, I would hate to find out you became dinner for spiders.” Bard laughed in agreement. “Well, now that my tasks are complete I must return to Mirkwood, Thranduil is expecting a detailed report from me. That I have found out who killed the spiders and there will be no more trespassing. Plus it is never good to keep one’s King waiting.” Galion made for the door when it dawned on Bard- the ring!

“Wait, Galion!” Bard dashes to the table and snatched up the ring and held it out to the elf. “I found this when a downed tree caused my barge to run aground…I guess you could say this was what got me into trouble!” Bard’s smile fell at the look on Galion’s face. The elf was clearly shocked. “Galion…what is it?” Bard glanced at the ring and back at Galion who had regained his composure. “Is this ring yours?”

Galion shook himself, giving a Bard a brief smile. “No..no it is not mine but I know who it belongs too.”

“Then you must take it and see it returned to them, I was going to do that to begin with but…” Bard shrugged and once again offered the ring to Galion.

Galion hesitated before closing Bard’s hand over the ring. “Keep it Bard.” Bard started to protest and Galion squeezed his hand, looking him directly in the eyes. “It would only bring painfully memories best left in the past. Keep it, give it to which ever daughter who get’s married first! Let it make new memories.” Bard frowned at the sorrow on the elf’s face, Galion took a deep breath and forced a smile.  
“I really must be off, see you soon.” Galion winked and left Bard…who wanted to find out who the ring belonged too.

 

***

  
Bard made the delivery to Mirkwood just Galion said would happen. It was routine and he shared a glass with his elven friends in honor of the festival. What was not routine was when a week later the empty barrels that he collected ended up full of Dwarves. The ensuing chaos that took place with the return of Thorin Oakenshield to the Lonely Mountain, saw Bard being suddenly thrust into the role of leader of Lake-town.

Now he stood next to King Thranduil, listening to Gandalf’s council, a place he never thought he would ever be in. He tried not to stare at Thranduil, which was hard…there was no denying the cold beauty of the elf king.

Before coming to the meeting, Bard took a bit longer to make himself more presentable, after all , he was a descendant of Girion, he should try to look like a leader. On a impulse his put the elven ring on, he hadn’t failed to notice the rings on the King’s hands, and thought it might make him appear less like a beggar and more lordly. It had seemed to work. When Thranduil had handed him a goblet of wine, Thranduil’s eyes caught the ring and a look of astonishment was there for a second before the cool mask dropped.

The council with Gandalf came to a close and Bard got up to leave when Thranduil’s deep voice rang out, “Lord Bowman, stay a moment…I wish to discuss battle plans.” Gandalf huffed about elves and dwarves being too stubborn for their own good as he left Bard alone with Thranduil.

Bard turned to find Thranduil staring intently at him, it sent a shiver down his spine. “Lord Thranduil?” Bard tongue seemed stuck, as Thranduil stepped closer, reached out to take his hand.

“This ring…where did you get it?” Thranduil’s voice was husky. Bard flushed, not sure why he did so. Maybe it was because he knew Thranduil knew he had been the trespasser who had killed those spiders? Or was it because Thranduil was so tall, so alluring?

“Umm…I found it in an old tree…and I asked Galion to take it but he refused.” Bard finally got out. “He said that they wouldn’t want it…” Thranduil peered at Bard before releasing his hand. “Was he incorrect?” Thranduil went and poured wine for them both, pausing to look out into the gathering night. Bard was beginning to wonder if he should leave when Thranduil took a glass and offered it to him.  
“No, he was correct.” Thranduil said softly as Bard took the wine. Bard couldn’t stop himself, Thranduil seemed sad and he felt it was due to the ring, but there was something he had been thinking about and maybe, just maybe, Thranduil knew the answer so he asked.

“What I want to know is why the ring was left there and what was written under it.” Bard said. Thranduil’s melancholy mood shifted to peaked interest.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked with a hint of eagerness. Bard nodded enthusiastically. “It is a long tale…” Thranduil warned.  
“Please, I don’t think I will be able to sleep, what with tomorrow…” Bard assured him, sipping at the wine, watching Thranduil intently  
“The name carved in the tree was Calemir….my friend, my Queen and my heartbreak…”  
The End

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


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